Catch Me by the Chin
by mosylu
Summary: He's allowed to say please, thank you, and his safe word. If Iris does her job right, he won't need his safe word. Smutttttttty Westallen
Iris's heels were very, very high, and they clicked ferociously on the floor as she strode up to the man standing in the middle of the room. He looked like a rumpled professor, tie askew, blazer unbuttoned.

Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his lashes fluttered as if he was torn between being too overwhelmed to look at her, and too overwhelmed to look away.

Nice.

She approved.

But she wanted him to look at her, so she reached up and caught his chin. Her perfectly painted fingernails were like drops of blood against his pale, pale skin. His chest heaved with a gulped breath and his pupils dilated.

She narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips. Hmmmm.

"You'll do," she said.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely.

She dropped his chin and turned her back, striding off toward the bedroom. He followed her, mute, no chains, no leashes, drawn along by the silent power of her will.

She shut the door and leaned back against it. "Undress."

He lifted his hands to the blazer's lapels.

" - me."

His hands hesitated, then he reached out to undo the fastening at her throat and lay the shirt open. She watched his fingers creep down her front, undoing the shirt bit by bit.

His knuckles skimmed over the slope of her breast, through the shirt, through her bra. She allowed it, because his touch was tender and reverent and that was quite acceptable.

He peeled the shirt off her shoulders and hesitated, holding it, looking at her for direction.

"There," she said, pointing at a chair.

He folded it, laid it over the back, and turned back. His hands fluttered over her hips until he found the side zip of her skirt, pulled it down, going to his knees. She stepped out of the ring of cloth, gave it a little kick, and he caught the material as it slapped against his chest.

"There," she said again, pointing at the same chair.

When he'd folded it and laid it over her shirt, she turned her back, presenting him with the hooks of her bra. He undid them, sliding the straps down her arms, and caught it as it fell loose, folding it over her skirt and top without being told.

So smart, this boy.

His eyes flicked down to her breasts, then back up. "Please?"

She smiled back at him and cupped her breasts in her hands to watch his breath catch. "No." She pointed at her panties.

He peeled them off, hands curving over her hips, eyes fluttering closed behind his glasses as he breathed in the scent of her dampness.

She leaned down and caught his chin again. His eyes flew open.

"There," she said, pointing at the chair with her other hand.

When the panties had been laid over the chair back with everything else, he went down on his knees again, reaching for her shoes to take them off. She lifted her leg and planted one foot against his chest, not pushing him away, but very pointedly holding him back.

"Those stay."

His hands fell to his knees, curling in on themselves. She put her foot back down.

"You. There," she said, pointing at the bed.

He rose, wobbling, and stretched himself out on the bed, eyes fixed on her. The front of his pants was tented. She considered it, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but her thigh-highs and the wicked heels.

"Undo your pants."

He gasped, "Thank you," fingers fumbling at the button, the zipper.

"Push them down. And your underwear."

He pressed his hips up and she licked her lips at the sight of his cock as it sprang free. He sat up to shove them down further, and she said, "That's far enough."

He was still wearing his blazer, shirt, tie, glasses. His pants and boxers were around his knees. Only his crotch and thighs lay naked, exposed, his cock half hidden by the tails of his shirt.

"Please?" he begged.

"No," she said, and pushed him back down, frowning.

He wanted punishing for that. She'd already told him what she required, after all.

She threw her leg over and straddled his thighs. She curved her body over his, bracing herself with her hands on either side of his head. The tweedy texture of his blazer scratched so, so lightly on her tight nipples, and she had to swallow a gasp as the sensation sent lightning down to her center.

His cock pressed hot against her stomach. She dropped her head until their faces were a breath apart, studying him narrow-eyed again. He lifted his chin to kiss her.

"No," she told him, lifting her head.

He bit his lip and lay back again. He tried to touch her, stroking her breasts, her thighs, her hips, where she'd permitted him to touch her before.

She caught his hands. "No." She carried his hands back up, pressing them into the pillow on either side of his head. She sat up.

He left his hands where they were.

She smiled.

He rocked his hips tentatively, rubbing the hot head against her skin with the motion.

"Yes," she said, and rose up on her knees. Taking his cock in her hand, she maneuvered it into place, watching him gasp at her touch, at her wetness, at her heat, at the tightness of her body around him as she settled into place.

He rocked his hips again, that particular roll that he knew she liked in this position. It pushed pleasure up and through her, and she hummed and smiled. "Very good. More."

His hands started to move, and she said, "Ah."

They dropped back. He clutched the sides of the pillow, long fingers digging in as he thrust up and she met the motion. His eyes fluttered shut behind his glasses again as they settled into a pounding, rocking rhythm.

She arched back, bracing herself against his thighs, and he let out a moan as the shift in position compressed his balls and rubbed the head of his cock harder inside her body. His breathing grew frantic, whimpers escaping along with the air.

His cock throbbed inside her, or maybe that was her, pulsing around him.

He looked up at her. His mouth was wet and slack, his eyes wide. "Please," he begged. "Please."

She sat up, sat still.

He gave a little mewl.

She touched his face, caressing his chin, running her nails over his Adam's apple. "Well. You've been very good." She reached out and took his hands by the wrists, carrying them to her breasts. "Go ahead."

"Thank you," he gasped. "Thank you, thank you - " His hands flexed against her breasts, thumbs rubbing the soft undersides, caressing the nipples. His hips pumped frantically, setting the springs squeaking. "Thank you, th-thank - thank you - "

His head pressed back into the pillow, face screwed up, as his cock jerked inside her, once, twice, three times before he settled back with a shuddering sigh.

Although she hadn't gotten off, it didn't cross her mind to punish him. She'd given her permission. She hadn't told him to attend to her first.

Still, she was all wound up.

She touched herself, pressing on her clit, and shuddered. His cum oozed out around his softening cock. She thought, _This isn't my job._

She rose up on her knees again, letting him slide out. His eyes opened lazily. "You can kiss me now," she told him.

They lit, and he pushed himself up on his elbows -

And she pressed her finger to his chest again. He lay back, eyes wide and confused.

She scooted up his body on her knees, pausing at each button on his shirt to press her throbbing clit against the hard discs for a moment. When she reached his shoulders, she lifted one leg over, then the other, until she straddled his face.

He reached up to catch her ass, his eyes bright.

She slid her fingers into his hair, looking down at him tenderly. "Kiss me - _there_."

Her pussy was sticky, messy, dripping with her arousal and his cum. He lapped it eagerly, sucking, flicking, as she braced herself against the wall behind their bed and thrust her pussy into his face, his tongue, his lovely, lovely mouth, his finger as he slipped it up inside her, then both fingers.

She gasped for air, resting her forehead against the cool plaster, as he did his job, the job he was so. Very. Good at.

Like a dam crashing down, she let go, screaming into the flesh of her arm as her inner walls clamped tight around his fingers and more liquid spilled out onto his face, his mouth, his tongue, to be gulped greedily as she shook and trembled and twisted above him.

She wheezed, little whimpers escaping, for a long moment before she managed to lift herself up from his face. They hadn't gone through all this just to have him suffocate in her pussy. She collapsed back on the bed, and they lay panting together for several minutes.

When she found the energy, she kicked off her shoes - wickedly hot, but oh _lord_ , they hurt - crawled up and threw her arms around him. "You did so good," she crooned, dabbing kisses all over his skin, all the kisses she'd denied him during the scene, running her hands through his hair. "So good. Bear. Barry. Honey. You were wonderful."

He pressed his forehead into her shoulder. "That was amazing."

She got him water and an apple, and he stopped shaking after he'd downed both. But his hair was still damp with sweat.

"You want a shower?" she whispered, nuzzling his hairline, kissing the salt sweat away.

He shook his head and pulled her close. "Just - just want - you. To hold you. Wow." He kissed her. "You were amazing, too." He stroked her arms, her back, her sides. "You cold? You're shaking." His blazer was still on. He wrapped one side over top of her, pulling her in close.

"Just the rush."

"You want water?"

"It's okay, sweetie, I got some." She kissed his cheek and ducked her face into his chest, rubbing her cheek into the smooth material of his shirt.

When they'd both caught their breath and the shaking had stopped, he said softly, "We should do that again sometime."

She considered his face, tracing the contours. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"Next time, you're in charge."

FINIS


End file.
